


The Siren's Call...

by ShadowDarkFlower



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Child Abuse, Heavy Angst, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6090886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowDarkFlower/pseuds/ShadowDarkFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Fete Des Mousquetaires Despair prompt by KarriNeves on FF.net.</p><p>This fall I think you're riding for—it's a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn't permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Siren's Call...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all who read this. This is set in Modern Day, if you couldn't tell by reading it, and deal with a lot of things; such as child and domestic abuse, murder, depression, suicide, bullying. This is not for the faint of heart. While not incredibly detailed, it may be triggering or offending. There is also Character Death.
> 
> Many of you might be thinking, why did I pick this, and for one reason, I did it because it's never the stuff you are comfortable mentioning. I've never been abused, nor do I know people (currently) who have been abused. But 3 of my siblings have been adopted, and we did a lot of fostering, and through that I've seen and heard many a thing. Like a blind newborn after being hit in the head too hard by his mother's boyfriend. Or a baby who has a 90% chance of dying of SIDS because his parents cooked Meth in the house.
> 
> Bullying and Depression are other things that are seen. Often times they lead to either abusers, school shooters, self harm or suicide cases.
> 
> Please don't be offended by what I've said. There's just some things I've heard recently that made me want to bring this up and say "hey, this actually happens. Ignoring it doesn't fix it, it makes it worse." I don't expect you to agree with me, but I wanted to put this out there.
> 
> All mistakes are my own, as this was hastily written.
> 
> This was written for the Fete Des Mousquetaires Despair Challenge. Please see the forum site for more details.
> 
> I hope you can all at least enjoy the writing. Please review.

" _This fall I think you're riding for—it's a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn't permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. The whole arrangement's designed for men who, at some time or other in their lives, were looking for something their own environment couldn't supply them with. Or they thought their own environment couldn't supply them with. So they gave up looking. They gave it up before they ever really even got started."_

_-_ _JD Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye_

* * *

To all that knew him, d'Artagnan was a feisty, shadowed soul whose secrets were kept close to his heart. He hid in the shadows, never coming closer lest people see him. Trust was a big thing with him, and never had anyone ever truly won it.

There had been a woman, long ago, who'd showed him romantic love, when no one else would. And three men who showed him brotherhood and friendship when he'd had none. His form scared most people, and in all reality, he couldn't blame them. He was hideous, and seeing him out of the shadows and in the sunlight made it worse. The horror that filled people's eyes when they backed away from him showed him what he really, and truly looked like.

His Mother had been wrong when she called him a blessing to the world. Her kind words and face were what kept him going after she'd been murdered by the man who'd made him like this. Until, even with thoughts of her, he couldn't face himself in the mirror. To see the horror he had become because of a man who had been angry enough to use a knife on a child. A man who had been supposed to protect them and cherish them and love them with his entire being.

D'Artagnan never told anyone, other than his four special memories, what had transpired that day when his step-father had moved on from beating them, to killing his Mother and scarring him devastatingly. They were the only ones he'd told about how his step-father had left him to bleed out on the floor while going out with his friends for a drink, not caring that he'd left the ten year old to deal with the wounds left behind and the corpse of his beloved Mother.

When d'Artagnan finally had had the strength to call the Police, was when the nightmare continued. The pity on their faces while he was taken away to the hospital for a treatment, that wouldn't be able to fix what had been done to him.

With his step-father in prison, and his father overseas in a war torn country and not able to leave, and with no other family to take him, he'd been dumped in Foster care.

The kids there made his life hell. The taunting and bullying. The snide remarks and insults. The beatings. Who knew that having a knife taken to your face could make you such a target?

His teenage years didn't get any better. He'd moved in with his Dad, who was gone more often than not, but was a quiet, comforting presence when around. High school had been the worst, until he'd gotten tired of the teachers doing nothing to help him or stop the bullies and left, secretly getting his GED.

Having been smaller than everyone else never helped him defend himself, until at 19 he shot up to 6'2", leaving him towering over the rest of the population. That never helped keep people's eyes off him though and in the end, he'd chosen a life in the shadows.

Having his father killed in an armed robbery while protecting him was the last straw and d'Artagnan snapped. In his uncontrollable anger he'd fled the house he once called home and searched unrelentingly for the mysterious man named Athos of the Musketeers who'd murdered his father.

After finding out that the Musketeers were actually a security agency made his blood boil and in a fit of passion, he'd strode through the doors with his illegally bought weapon, firing into the ceiling demanding to see this Athos.

The ensuing fight and clearance of Athos' name left his head spinning. It continued like that when instead of pity and horror on the Inseparables' face when they looked at him, he saw only compassion and camaraderie. That had been one of the best moments of his life.

Another shock had come when the IT expert, Constance, began flirting with him, leaving him flustered and breathless. The intriguing group that enveloped him in safety and love had him wondering, for the first time in forever, if he could truly find a place.

But it hadn't lasted long.

* * *

d'Artagnan had let his guard down, and in return, was overwhelmed when the day that the news arrived came.

His step-father was out of prison, having escaped with another group of inmates who'd killed the guards and stolen their uniforms.

He'd been horrified and stunned at the revelation. Then the world came crashing down around him. The memories and fears bombarded him until he couldn't tell reality from memory. He'd run to his house shared with the others and locked himself in his room before giving in and falling into the pain.

He didn't remember much if the next twenty-four hours. When he'd finally come to his senses enough to somewhat think things through, two thoughts stood out the most.

His father was coming for him, and the others were in danger.

He'd left, and that was how he'd ended up here.

It was 5 years later now, and he was ready to give up on life. His feet brushed the edge of the building, teetering forward before settling back on the soles. Just a little taste of the freedom falling could bring.

A game of Russian Roulette with him seeing how far he could slide out before he fell into oblivion.

He took a deep breath, sliding out a little bit more. He teetered farther this time, before his feet settled again. He closed his eyes, eyelashes sticky with tears clumped against his cheeks.

There really wasn't another way for him to go. He'd been trying for years now, and he'd only hurt himself by trying to live. The sweet siren of death called to him in a way nothing but memories had. In a way that couldn't be replicated and replaced.

It was family calling to him.

The young man slid forward a little bit more, wondering if maybe this time he would fall. Maybe this time he could finally arrive at the place the siren was calling him to. Maybe he'd find the peace he'd never really had, not for long.

He slid forward a little bit more, just as the door to the staircase leading up to the roof burst open and three comforting, oh-so-familiar voices shouted for him to stop. He couldn't though, not when this was for them, just as much as it was for him.

He stepped forward and thought;

_Maybe he'd finally be free._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope were able to at least get through the story. Please review. Thanks for your time.


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